It's the time of year when I look back and reflect on this blog and the life that leads it. It was a slow year for the old weblog -- if you're still reading, you deserve an award or at least a nice paperweight as I only wrote 37 posts for the entire year. Throughout my life, my most prolific times of writing have been during times of angst and unhappiness -- my last year of high school, my first year of working full-time, the year I waited for a person in Iraq. It makes me think that the more full my life is, and the more happy I feel, the less I have to write. Maybe that means I'm saying everything that needs to be said and doing what needs to be done. Or maybe I was just plain busy. Maybe a little of both.

Regardless, 2011 had a clear theme from the start. I went to visit my sister in Boston for New Year's Eve. I arrived just days after a huge blizzard snowed-in airports and cities across New England. Had I arrived a few days earlier, the story might have been very different. But as it happened, I arrived fresh-faced and delay-free in Boston to a winter wonderland after having watched Love Story for the first time on Netflix just a week before. Our first stop after leaving the airport was a snow-covered park with only a rust-red Vizsla bounding through it.

"This looks just like Love Story!" I exclaimed and we quickly made our way to the only attraction of the park: a swingset set against red brick buildings framing a glimpse of "the Prude," as my sister called it. We appealed to the Vizsla's owner to take a photo of us on the swings and the product was immediately posted to Facebook with the caption "Love means never having to say you're sorry."


The new year opened up new possibility and new experiences, the first of which being a major decision to go to college. No matter how many times I've written "go to college," I always have to stop myself from writing "go back to college." It's weird to tell people you never went, let alone got started. College has been an experience, a discovery in which I have realized two things: 1) They were right, college is not like high school. The professors are different, the students are different and the cost of tuition and books makes me wonder how we ever expect anyone to get a college degree. 2) They were wrong, college is like high school. The bureaucracy is the same, the same incredible number of hoops through which a student must jump are the same and the process, to me, feels very much the same.

The one thing I have learned from college as a whole is a better understanding of myself and others. It falls under the category of "emotional intelligence," something that has been my blind spot for years. I didn't expect to learn how to be more understanding or more honest with myself and others. I didn't think that you could teach someone how to be more forgiving, or to consider all perspectives, or to be more patient. But you can. I feel happier, stronger and altogether more content with my increased emotional IQ and I work every day to improve it.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention at this point that college also led me to another love story. That one is about meeting a guy who doesn't like the Internet but loves helping people when they need it the most and how that led to helping a long list of people, including making five little kids' Christmas a lot brighter. I think we'll find a lot more people to help at some point or another.

Then there were the speaking engagements. I spoke to Evan Smith's LBJ school class about being a citizen in a journalist's world. I moderated an interview with Senator Kirk Watson. I delivered speeches and trainings about Democratic politics to groups across the state: McAllen, Austin (x3), San Marcos and Dallas. I delivered a presentation on the effects of social media on the pet industry in Atlanta and gave a pretty awesome email marketing presentation at Innotech eMarketing Summit. And you know what? I loved every second of it all.


The final major love story of my life this year came in the form of a building. Specifically, a building at the corner of 7th Street and Brazos in downtown Austin. After nearly 6 years of driving over 60 miles a day to and from work, and nearly 10 years if you count the 4 years I worked at the stables off of Hamilton Pool Road, I now have a short, chauffeured 1.8 mile drive to and from work every day. I'm a big believer in real estate as a window to one's soul and I have to say that my office location finally represents how I feel about my career: taking risks, making sound decisions, forging ahead when there is uncertainty and knowing that the investment is always worth it.

I have no complaints about 2011. I feel sated.

Rick Perry's newest Presidential ad -- sans Carhartt -- shows our Governor gleefully discussing one of his favorite topics. No, not mandated transvaginal sonograms. The other one, y'all.



That's right: corrupt politicians. More specifically, legislators who turn into lobbyists. Po-tay-to, po-tah-toe. Frankly, I'm surprised Perry hasn't brought this up before. There are so many of them in the Texas Capitol that they should rename the Cloakroom the Revolving Door.

But I'm truly grateful that Perry did take time out of his busy downhill campaign to talk about this because I have grown increasingly concerned about one former Democrat-turned-Republican-turned-Coward, Aaron Pena, who has been saying to practically everyone but Santa Claus how poor his time in office has made him, as if we owe him something. So I guess Pena got into politics for all the right reasons. Fame and fortune and whatnot.

Now, in light of Perry's latest ad, it seems to me that Pena's in a little bit of a bind. The Messiah of Texas Republican Politics has stuffed his own mandate up the hoo-hahs of retiring Texas legislators like Pena who might be looking to add "lobbyist" to their LinkedIn profiles.

Speaking for the professional left (read: those who, unlike Aaron Pena, have not been paid $7200 a year by the state of Texas to be a Democrat), I'd like to issue my former blog buddy a challenge:

I want Aaron Pena to vow to not enter the revolving door of lobbying now that he is no longer running for office.

It shouldn't be that hard, after all. I'm sure Pena has lots of friends down there in Edinburg who would love to hire a disloyal, weak and easily swayed former Legislator.

Go get 'em, tiger.

As a member of the Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Austin, a few weeks ago I was asked if I would be interested in writing a devotional as part of their 2011 Advent Devotional. This was a new exercise for me, but writing for an audience has always been something I enjoy doing, so I forged ahead. My assigned advent date was today, December 2nd, so I thought I would share it on my blog as well. Whether you are a religious person or not, I hope you can find something meaningful in the words. For Democrats wondering why their many prayers of forward progress often go unanswered in this state, perhaps it will help to remember that the important part is we seek progress.

Texts for Friday December 2
Morning: Ps. 102, 148
Evening: Ps. 130, 16
Amos 5:1–17
Jude 1–16
Matt. 22:1–14

Reflection:
Amos 5:1–17

“Seek Me and live”

What does it mean “to seek?” We’re all seeking something: a job, a partner, happiness. But it’s a funny little word, “seek.” Visually and audibly, it likens itself to a cousin of “see,” as if the “k” on the end simply obscures what you’re looking for. And it’s true that at first glance, “to seek” might imply that one is looking for something with the intention of finding it. But “to seek,” as defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary, has much more subtle definitions: to resort to, to try to, to ask for, to make an attempt.

How often do we seek something and become discouraged with the lack of progress or frustrated with the answer we find? How often do we bemoan that we sought a goal or a conclusion only to find that it escaped us? How many millions wonder why, no matter how much we seek God, He doesn’t appear?

To seek God, we must seek the whole of what it is that God stands for: justice, peace, love, forgiveness, understanding. But why, with all of this seeking going on, are we still unable to achieve harmony between nations? Why do we still struggle to grant forgiveness to society's worst offenders? Why do we still persecute or banish those who we don't understand?

After all, we are seeking something, which is so very close to seeing something -- so why haven’t we seen it yet?

Therein lies the struggle with that unassuming little verb “to seek.” For we are made no promises by God that in order to live we must see anything. We are are pardoned of finding, or knowing, or achieving or owning. To live we must first make an attempt. We must resort. We must try. We must ask. In order to live, we simply must seek.

Seek good and not evil,
That you may live.

When Aaron Pena switched to the Republican party last November, just weeks after being elected as a Democrat, the insult was palpable. Democrats in Texas had just suffered major losses across the state and the salt in the wound was a turncoat from the Valley who was more interested in saving himself than the people who elected him. There wasn't much good to come out of Aaron Pena's party switch.

But today, as word of Aaron Pena's announcement that he will not seek re-election spreads, I'd like to focus on the lessons that Texas Democrats can -- actually, make that have to -- learn from his betrayal in order to move forward:

1. If you smell a rat, there probably is one.
Aaron Pena was a half-assed Democrat but he was our half-assed Democrat. The truth is that Democrats should have removed Aaron Pena from office with a better candidate long before he had the option to switch parties or perch atop his pension. Instead, Pena was left to grow rotten, and by the time the smell got unbearable, it was too late to do anything about it.

2. One bad Democrat negates all of the good ones.
Pena's party switch helped give the Republican Party the supermajority in the house, all but insuring that only those policies authorized by God whispering in Rick Perry's ear would get passed during the last session. The argument for supporting bad Democrats is that an East Texas Democrat can't be like a West Texas Democrat, who is a little like a Travis County Democrat but he wears boots. If Democrats cannot begin to see the problem with having 254-flavors of what it means to be a Democrat, then we are no longer a Party -- we're an all-you-can-eat buffet, like the Golden Corral of political concessions.  And who likes to eat at the Golden Corral?

3. It's time to lose the phrase "moderate Democrat."
Calling someone a moderate Democrat instantly defines all other Democrats as a bunch of hairy-armpit liberals who want to tax the sale of mood crystals to earn additional state revenues. A moderate Democrat is a hiding place for weakness, fear and cowardliness. Moderate Democrats switch parties, lose elections, alienate base voters and make the rest of the Democrats on the ballot look "radical" when they should look like good Democrats. From now on, we are either Democrats or Bad Democrats. We need to vote for the good ones and boot the bad ones out of office.

4. We need more fighters.
Time and time again, when the going got tough, Aaron Pena gave up. But it's not just Aaron Pena. We see examples of people unwilling to fight for things that Democrats should be fighting for all too often and make no real effort to replace them with people who are willing to fight. We saw an instance of it just last week in the SDEC's prioritization of protecting Democratic incumbents over civil rights; a decision so short-sighted that it makes one wonder what value there is in a committee that is more concerned about the state of the Democratic Party today than the state of Texas for future generations.

So, it's up to us, Texas Democrats. We can vote for good Democrats who fight or suffer bad Democrats who run. We can demand more or we can accept less.  We can learn from Aaron Pena or we can keep electing people just like him.

Rick Perry went on the Today Show this morning to mop up the "Oops" he left on the national stage last night. While watching this morning's Perry permasmile, the coddling and "Let's give him another shot!" attitude of Anne Curry, I was remind how Curry handled another verbally-challenged show pony from a few years back: Miss Teen South Carolina. Maybe if the whole president thing doesn't work out, Rick Perry can start his own reality show called "Are You Smarter Than a Texas Governor." Watch, compare and share below.

Unless, of course, you forget to. Oops.

Rick Perry has been Governor of Texas since before I was old enough to vote. As a native Texan born in the millennial age, I put Rick Perry in the same category as a cassette player or an AOL subscription -- something that has seemingly always been around, but has long since lost its purpose. Coming of age as a woman in Rick Perry's Texas is sort of like living in the wild, wild west, like an Annie Ovary of women's health, dodging old men wielding vaginal probes and vaccine mandates. With a governor who has a women's health record that's a bumpy country mile long possibly becoming our next President, what would it mean for women across America? Allow me.

First order of business in the Perry presidency would be the creation of the Department of Interior Contraception, or DIC. DIC would oversee approved contraceptive devices under Perry's watchful eye, the top item on the list being the most widely accepted, reliable option available to God-fearing Americans these days: abstinence. Now, while it's true Texas has the 3rd highest teen birth rate in the country and also true that a 2005 study found teens in Texas were actually having more sex after undergoing an abstinence-only program, Rick Perry still stands by the practice. Why? Not because there are actually any studies backing him up but "from my own personal life," Perry told the Texas Tribune's Evan Smith in an interview earlier this year. Comforting, isn't it? Rather than President Perry making decisions based on studies and figures, the free world will instead hinge on the regularity of his wife's cycles.

But don't take Rick Perry's word for it. Starting in 2012, women (and their partners -- suddenly that cowboy vote doesn't sound so good, does it gentlemen?) will get their very own chance to practice an abstinence-only approach when the recent law that requires health insurance companies to cover birth control will no doubt be rolled back by President Perry.

That brings us to the question of how Perry plans to punish women who don't fall into line with his tried and true abstinence methods. After all, without threat of punishment, I think it's safe to say Perry will probably be the only person in America abstaining from sex. For the sinners, Perry has already started a little pilot program right here in Texas. The state now requires mandatory transvaginal sonograms for women who are 8 to 10 weeks pregnant and seeking abortions. The bill, which Perry declared a piece of "emergency legislation" during the last legislative session, requires the doctor to describe the fetus and play audio of the heartbeat prior to the abortion procedure. President Perry's version of this bill will include an amendment to play Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the U.S.A." during the procedure.

Alas, if all of this has you feeling down, ladies, don't fret. Think of all those cute babies we'll get to have. But in Rick Perry's America, you may want to home school. Texas ranks first in the nation in adults without high school diplomas. The future also doesn't look so bright for all those precious little ones when it comes to health insurance and potential jobs: Texas boasts another first in the nation in the percentage of children without health insurance and, in 2010, Texas tied with Mississippi for the highest percentage of workers employed in minimum-wage jobs. No wonder Governor Perry wants Texas to secede. It'd sure make us look less stupid.

At a speech given to the United for Life group in June, Perry bragged about Texas's recently-passed sonogram law and told attendees, "In Texas we have pursued policies to protect unborn children whenever possible." And you can bet your left Fallopian tube that, if elected, he'll continue to do the same for the unborn children of America. I just hope there's a Plan B pill for what happens when all these children grow up -- because President Perry, just like Governor Perry, certainly doesn't plan to care for them.

After all, where Rick Perry comes from, that's women's work.

Texas political consultant Jason Stanford carries the distinct record of having worked for not only Chris Bell but also Farouk Shami and Kinky Friedman, which is the political consultant equivalent of going nil in a game of spades. My natural inclination to doubt the opinion of anyone whose work is sold to the highest bidder has led me to disagree with Stanford before. But I'm particularly insulted by Stanford's most recent manifesto pontificating on his newest theory: Texas Democrats are way more conservative outside of Austin and that's why they're not voting for the loser candidates he's heralded in the past.

Well, hot dog! I thought it was because one of those candidates was a Houston pencil-chewer who was so boring that by the time Bill White came along, thirty people clapping for him made White look like the Obama of the south. Or because one thought "a day without Mexicans would be like a day without sunshine." Or because one could never decide whether he was a Democrat or not.

But Stanford wants us to forget all of those potential reasons for a lackluster turnout and instead focus on trying something new: "Team Blue" should be more like Republicans. Citing nameless polls and out-of-context numbers, Stanford makes an argument that the Democratic Party isn't accepting enough of "ideological diversity." Evidently Democrats in Texas are too focused on radical ideology like upholding a woman's constitutional right to choose, two individuals' right to marry and not believing in things like anchor babies.  Because we heard so much of those issues during the last election -- I'm sure that's why we lost.

Stanford's latest delusions leaves me with just one question for him and, by extension, his fellow puppeteers in this state (please excuse the caps):

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Being more like the Republican Party will not convince anyone -- Democrat or Republican -- to vote for Democrats. No doubt about it, Texas is a big state, with big beliefs and big differences. It's time for us to talk about them, not hide behind them. If you can't differentiate yourself, then what exactly are you planning on bringing to the table? "Vote for me -- I'm like the other guy!" is not a legitimate campaign message. While I may be a myopic Austinite, I know there are a lot of people out there in Texas unaccounted for when it comes to their impetus for voting (or not). The Democratic party in Texas needs to refocus and redefine what it is that makes us different from Republicans instead of constantly trying to pretend like we are the same.

We've tried that. It doesn't work. There's just more of the same down that losing road and I'm certainly not going to stand around while we back off on all of the issues that could stand to strengthen us. Accepting conservative ideology isn't the diversification of a party. It's the desertion of one.

Look, I like a good primary fight as much as the next gal. Stirring up some trouble among local establishment players is always a fun way to kill a few hours over in the comments section on Burnt Orange Report and sometimes even the best Democrat is made better by a tough primary race.

But when it comes to the impending bloodbath between the Lloyd Doggett and Joaquin Castro camps for the newly redistricted CD-35, I've decided I'm not going to have a dog in that fight. Here's why:

If Democrats spend the next six months ripping apart Doggett and Castro over stupid things like who's more progressive, the Republicans will win. 

I don't mean "win" as it is used when referring to "winning a seat" or "winning an election." I mean that the Republicans will get their way. Of course the Republicans want to get rid of Doggett. Of course it would make more sense for Castro to step aside and let Doggett run unopposed. Of course Democrats will be more intrigued in eating their own than pointing their wrath and infighting toward the real issues at hand. See how that works? Bump, set, spike. Point: Republicans.

We have a lot of issues that Democrats need to flesh out for voters between now and March and, more importantly, now and November 2012. Whether or not Congressional seniority is more important than potential promise simply isn't one of them.

Democrats need to unite and rise above this primary battle. Either candidate would be a helluva lot better of a choice than if we were stuck with some Bermanesque rightwing lunatic representing the district. Let's focus on what's really important: defeating Republicans in 2012. Reelecting a President who is going to need all the help he can get. Recruiting more female candidates (Draft Dolly!) to run for office. Getting out the vote.

The Republicans are good enough at explaining why someone shouldn't vote for a Democrat. Let's not use the March primary to give them a head start.

There's a pecan tree in my backyard that, it is estimated, is over one hundred years old. Its canopy is narrow, but its reach is tall; its branches stretch a hundred feet into the the atmosphere.  When I bought my house, it was the only tree planted on my postage-stamp lot.

Someone, at some point, took the time to construct a wooden pergola under the pecan, four simple posts in the ground supporting an open latticed roof. A banana-yellow porch swing was hung from the cross beams, shaded by the branches of the pecan. Before I moved into the vacant house, I would stop by and sit on the swing, staring up toward the heavens, wondering who had nurtured this magnificent tree that, as Robert Frost once wrote "the scythe had spared."

For the last three months -- a season -- a homeless woman has lived with me. She bears the first name of my mother and her middle name is that of my sister.

When I picked her up at the Salvation Army, a World War II veteran was there with his wife, stooped over the hatchback of a station wagon, unloading box after box of food. He pushed a flier about God into my hand and told me the words had sustained him throughout his battles. I looked at the people milling around the alley and, momentarily, saw the war he had chosen to now fight. I took the one I could carry from the battlefield, but I'm now afraid the effort was in vain. I wish I'd kept that flier.

She's from Midland. That makes really very little difference in this story except to say that she had, at one point, what I think was a chance. Now, at fifty six years old, she will return to homelessness in time to celebrate her fifty seventh birthday in two weeks. Job interviews, job fairs, jobs programs and, it seems, praying have all left these questions unanswered:

Who gets spared by the scythe? Why do some leap toward the sky in the full glory of life while others find themselves continuously cut down?

Nelson Henderson said "The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit." It sounds nice but in practice is difficult to do. It requires patience and -- this is more difficult -- faith. I'm not talking about the kind of closed-eyes faith in God in which you stare at your eyelids trying to see something there. I mean faith in believing that what you do see will someday be better. Faith in knowing that we must do things -- plant trees, help others, give ourselves -- without any expectation of enjoying the end result.

What trees are we planting in Texas? I fear none at all. We have selfish leaders making selfish legislation based on selfish desires. We shroud all of this with rhetoric like "government spending" and demand the lesser few be "cut off," while expecting the system to continue to service our own selfish needs. If Rick Perry wants a Response to his doubts of the future of our nation, here's one for him: You reap what you sow.

For my part, I've planted a ten foot elm in the back that is dwarfed by the great pecan. A hundred years from now, when I am dust or a breeze or a ray of sunlight catching, I hope the person who sits under the elm has faith and finds themselves living in a state that invests in its people instead of cutting them down.

For there is hope of a tree, If it be cut down, that it will sprout again, And that the tender branch thereof will not cease.  
Job 14:7

I didn't buy it when Rick Perry pretended to shoot a coyote during the last gubernatorial campaign and I'm having a hard time believing that Rick Perry pretending to care about the nation's problems by hosting a national day of prayer is actually going to convince any of the 4.3 million Texans who live in poverty that he does. As for fasting, Rick Perry starving himself for a day isn't going to trick those in this state who go hungry for weeks on end into thinking they are full.

Wrapping up both of these ideas into a fancy website littered with platitudes isn't going to fool God, either.

We're all friends here so I'm going to let you in on a little secret: Praying is easy. A person can feign concern, close their eyes and raise their hands upward toward the heavens all without having to fix their hair.

In other words, praying is perfect for Perry.

What's not easy, and what requires a little more hair gel than quoting passages from Joel, is actual work.

Work is being homeless.

Work is walking to a bus stop every day in the 100-degree heat.

Work is teaching yourself what public schools failed to teach you.

Work is losing a job.

Work is looking for a job.

Work is waiting for food stamps.

Work is having pain but not having the resources to make it go away.

Rick Perry's right on one thing: Texas can do better. But to be better, we're going to have to work at it. Work is not closing your eyes and praying for those you don't want to see.

It is opening your eyes and helping those you can.